45

Ariel

There was a lot of chatter on the radio. He called his mother to check on her and see how things were in Haifa. “Ima, Ariel . . . Tov. I’m not sure if you’re already in Haifa, or on your way there? Call me as soon as you get this. Miss you.”

He went back to the notebook he’d left on the table next to the sofa early that morning. He picked it up and sat in bed, resting his back on the puffy pillows. He craved some red wine. He put the notebook aside and got up and went to the kitchen. He looked in Alaa’s cabinets and found a Californian cabernet. There was a wine opener was in one of the small drawers. He opened another cabinet and took out one of the big glasses Alaa was fond of buying. He went back to the bedroom and put both bottle and glass on the nightstand. He took off his shoes, got his laptop, and lay down. He took the red notebook into his lap. The radio kept him company. He created a new file on his laptop, named it “Chronicle of Pre-Disappearance,” and began selecting excerpts from Alaa’s notebook to translate to Hebrew. He thought they could be part of a book he will write and publish on the disappearance of the Palestinians.